


One is a Lonely Number

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Established Relationship, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein it's been four months since the boys got together at Lake Chelan, and now it's almost Christmas. Will Jim replace Blair's sold computer? Has the course of true love gone smoothly since we last left our guys? How the hell should I know? I just write the stuff.</p>
<p>This story is a sequel to It's In The Hips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One is a Lonely Number

 

**One is a Lonely Number by Alyjude**

**4:30pm - Christmas Eve**

_Okay, time to start counting my blessings..._

> 1) I'm *not* cold or wet  
>  2) I can't feel a thing  
>  3) People know I'm down here  
>  4) Jim doesn't  
>  5) The lady and the dog are A-OK

_So how bad could things really be? Well, now that you've asked...._

_They may not be able to get me out before the other half of the house caves in... and I could have a broken back, and I hate small confined spaces, and this definitely fits that description... and I can't see a blasted thing, but that could be a blessing, and let's not forget it's Christmas Eve, but I was going to be alone anyway, so I'm still alone, stuck in mud, which I can't feel, with half a house on top of me. Of course, there's no one to talk to, but me, which could also be a good thing, cuz there's no one to say, "Shut up, Sandburg"..._

_"shut up, sandburg," he whispered softly into the dark._

_A rumbling sound sent more dirt and mud down on the trapped man, who scrunched his eyes shut, trying to keep the dirt out. He couldn't move his hands, to shield his face, but he could just barely turn his head, keeping as much of the dirt out of his nostrils as possible. A moment later - quiet._

_He carefully reopened his eyes, hoping to see light from above him, but saw - nothing. Just the darkness he was getting used to._

_"Well, Stan, this is another fine mess you've gotten me into... "  
_

***

**December 22, 1999**

Jim Ellison climbed out of the truck, reached over, grabbed up the brown bags, shut and locked the door and started for his home. As he approached the lobby, he glanced up and noted that Sandburg had turned on all the Christmas lights, and he allowed a small smile. Dusk was rapidly turning into night, and a sharp, cold wind was coming off the bay, but as he gazed at the lights adorning the balcony, he could already feel the welcoming warmth of the loft. He could already smell home, the spicy, sweet smell, and he knew how it would feel - warm and safe, especially once a certain pair of arms wrapped around him.

His steps quickened as he hurried inside, eager to be home.

As he rode up the elevator, he opened his hearing, hoping to listen in on some Blairtalk. He'd found that he thoroughly enjoyed _listening_ in on Blair's conversations with himself. He'd never done this Sentinel Eavesdropping before, but since becoming lovers this last August, while on a case at Lake Chelan, he'd found out what a trip Blair's little _talks_ could be. So far he'd found out what Blair thought of Connor's newest boyfriend, "Yuck!" and about Blair's feelings on the latest news from Hawaii, "Oh, man, this sucks! But isn't that what you get from fear-based decisions made by ignorant people?"  Of particular interest, Blair's feelings on the merits of the male form, as represented by one James Joseph Ellison. It appeared that Blair really loved his arms and hands and that no one was more surprised than Blair, who'd always thought he'd be concentrating on an area a bit lower.

Jim was grinning broadly now as he stepped out of the elevator. But his grin changed as the sounds that came from behind the door to #307 were most definitely _not_ Christmas sounds.

Instead of "The Sounds of Christmas" he was hearing "Smooth" by Santana. _And_ voices. As in more than Blair's.

"I'm never going to get this. Where does this hand go again?"

Now Jim could hear Blair.

"Down here, right on my hip, that's it... no, lower... "

"Got it! How close?"

"Closer, Joel. That's it, now slide your leg... yes, right in there, perfect! Now we're in perfect position."

Okay, thought Jim, that's it! He fumbled with his key, dropping the bags in the process, and finally got key in door, shoulder to door and door shoved open... and stumbled in.

The picture that greeted him was almost worse than he'd imagined.

Joel Taggert, his old and trusted friend, had one arm around the waist of one Blair Sandburg, Jim's current and forever sex toy. Joel's right hand was gripping the hip that belonged to _Jim_ , while Joel's left hand was holding the hand that belonged to _Jim_ , and the two men were standing so close together, not even Sentinel sight could distinguish any space between them!

"Now," Blair said, "Can you feel the beat?" And using his hips, he moved Joel's body slightly, waiting for the big man to move with the music.

"Yeah, man. That's it, you've got it, just like that... okay, now you want to guide my steps backward... "

Shit, and fuck. Blair was teaching Joel how to dance. Blood vessels dilated, lungs expanded, blood pressure dropped to normal.

Jim Ellison gave a small sigh of relief, then leaned back to enjoy the show. After all, it was dancing that had brought them together and, even after four months, Jim couldn't get enough of those hips... and _those_ hips moving to Santana? Oh, yeah, definitely beats hot apple cider and "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus".

Jim relaxed and if the vision before him was somewhat odd, what with big, gentle Joel Taggert holding the shorter, slender, pale Blair Sandburg in his arms.... At that moment, Joel took Blair's fingers and lightly twirled the younger man, both of them laughing now, and the movement brought them both around, facing the front door, and Jim.

"Hey, Jim. Joel's looking pretty good, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, real good, Chief. The hard core criminals are gonna quake in their boots at this new restraining technique."

"That's what Joel and I thought."

Blair unwound himself from Joel's arms, shut off the stereo, then plopped down on the couch with a little, "whew".

"Man, a policeman's life is never done, right Joel?"

"Amen. And thanks Blair. I think I can handle it now."

Jim slipped out of his jacket and as he hung it up, he asked, "Okay, what's really going on behind this Astaire and Rogers act? And yes, _Hair_ boy, you're Rogers."

"Astaire, Jim. I'm definitely Astaire."

Joel found himself smiling, as he enjoyed the famous Ellison~Sandburg patter. It seemed to have been missing for the last couple of months, but it was certainly in good form today.

"Uh, Blair? Maybe I should put Jim out of his misery--" Blair interrupted with an added, "Oh, let's," but Joel ignored him as he finished, "And tell him what's going on?"

"Dammit, Joel, I wasn't going to tell Jim about the two of us until after the holidays."

Taggert shot Blair a dirty look, somewhat diluted by obvious affection, and said, "Like he'd believe _us_? With that new woman in Accounting breathing down your neck?" Joel turned to Jim, rolled his eyes and explained, "See, I've been seeing, well, I'm dating--"

"Karen Phillips," Blair assisted.

"um, yes, Karen Phillips. And I'm, I've invited her to the party--

"Your dad is throwing for Major Crimes," Blair cut in again.

"And I don't know how to, um, er, you know... "

"Dance?" Jim offered, beating out Sandburg by a millisecond.

"Dance. So Blair's been teaching me."

"And Joel, you are _so_ ready. You're gonna sweep her off her feet, trust me."

Joel grinned happily, then checked his watch. "Oh, man, I'm late. I'm supposed to pick up Simon, take him shopping for Kisha's Christmas present." He was still talking, thanking Blair as he grabbed his jacket, plucked up his keys and said his good-bye's.

As the door closed behind Taggert, Jim shook his head in amusement and plopped down beside Blair. He picked up Blair's legs, shoved off the younger man's shoes and began to massage dance-tired feet.

"Man, I love Sentinel fingers. You do realize we could make a fortune if we went into the massage business?" Blair purred.

Jim chuckled, concentrating on working the ball of Blair's right foot. "Why do I think you could make a fortune ten times over with these senses of mine?"

He missed the quick frown that crossed Sandburg's features and the sudden stiffness. Slowly Blair moved his legs away from Jim, who looked up in surprise. Sandburg stood and made a show of stretching.

"How about some clam chowder and corn bread for dinner? I've got all the fixin's."

"Oh Shit!" Jim threw himself up and rushed the door, "I forgot our dinner. I brought Chinese." He threw open the door and retrieved the fallen food.

"Still in one piece, but cold, Chief."

"Hey, no problem, we can heat it up." Blair took the bags into the kitchen and fifteen minutes later they sat down to warmed up Moo Goo Gai Pan and Egg Rolls.

As Blair dipped an egg roll, he asked, "Pretty nice of your dad to arrange the New Year's Eve party for the gang, eh?"

"Mmm", was the best Jim could say, what with a mouthful of food.

"I mean, basically, citizens say thank you when the police save the day, they don't generally throw parties."

"Mmmm."

"I suppose they _could_ throw parties, but they don't."

"Mmm."

"So when they do, I would suspect other reasons...."

Jim stopped chewing, swallowed and stared. Blair seemed to be busy swirling sweet and sour sauce with his eggroll.

"Other reasons? Such as?"

Blair looked up innocently and said, "Oh, like maybe they'd want to send a message, maybe... to like, a relative, maybe... "

"Like... a son?"

"Like a son."

"And that message would be?"

"Oh, I don't know... I'm just guessing here... "

"Umph," Jim snorted loudly, but Blair went on as if he hadn't heard the snort of derision, "But maybe a father was trying to say how proud he was of his son... how sorry he might be, and that he... loved him, maybe."

When Jim didn't respond, Blair shrugged and repeated, "maybe."

Jim shook his head sadly, "You know, Chief, any connection between your reality and the world's is purely coincidental."

Blair looked at his Sentinel, a certain sadness behind the gaze and shrugged again, "I'm just saying maybe. I think your dad wants to move a bit faster with you. He loves you, Jim. And he's trying to make it better. That's all I'm saying." He got up and took his plate into the kitchen, followed by Jim, who'd cleared away the rest of the food and repackaged it.

"Sandburg, I sometimes wonder about you. Dad is grateful. We saved his company and he's, well, grateful."

"And proud. Of you. So, the party. Accept it, Jim. Your dad loves you and wants to move faster at the reconciliation." Blair emptied the trash under the sink, as Jim turned on the water and rinsed the dishes before putting them into the dishwasher.

"Maybe. You could be right. But maybe he's just indulging in some good PR."

Blair shook his head at the stupidity of his partner. "Man, you are so-- ", but he didn't finish, the ringing phone interrupting his words. Jim wiped his hands and picked up the phone.

"Ellison."

Blair finished up in the kitchen, but some of Jim's words caught his attention.

"Look, Dad, yes, I know... but, okay, let me get back to you... he is? Well, I'll call you back, okay? No, no, I'll, think about it... yes, I know, just let me call you back. Right. Bye."

The phone was replaced, but Jim stayed by the small table, gazing down at the machine as if it were alive.

"Jim?" Blair walked up behind the larger man, but didn't put his arms around him, the way he wanted to, choosing instead to rest one hand on Jim's back.

"Jim? Is everything all right?"

"Yes. That was Dad. He wants me to spend Christmas with him and Steven, at the house." Jim still hadn't turned, hadn't removed his eyes from the phone.

"But that's great, Jim. Just what you guys need."

Sandburg's words penetrated Jim's haze and he whirled around. "Blair, it's, I mean... you're not serious?"

Blair knew what Jim _wasn't_ saying. In the four months since becoming lovers, they'd not confided in anyone. As it had happened, Simon, Rafe and Kisha had all missed Jim's little _walk_ and subsequent _tongue_ dancing with Blair at Karen Phillips resort, and the rest of the weekend they'd been very discreet. Upon their return to Cascade, Blair had been subjected to a lengthy speech by Jim on why they needed to keep their new relationship a secret. And he'd understood. And now, Jim was being asked by his father to spend Christmas with him. Which would mean no Blair. You don't bring your work partner to your family for Christmas, especially when William Ellison had still not forgiven Blair for the dissertation fiasco.

Now Blair looked up into the worried blue eyes of the man he loved more than his own life, and nodded, "Yes, Jim, I'm serious. This is important to you and your dad. It's been slow go rebuilding your relationship."

"Chief, you know I haven't told him about us."

Blair took a step back, needing the distance for courage. "Yes, Jim, I know. And I know how he feels about me, period. Since," his hand waved aimlessly about, "well, since you know and that's okay, you wouldn't bring your partner with you anyway," Blair's words were flying over each other now, as he tried to make himself understood, "and Naomi will probably arrive sometime on the 24th, and heck, Jim, we'll have plenty of Christmases together, but you've got this one chance with your dad, and you need this--"

Jim smiled and held up his hands in surrender, "Okay, motormouth, I get it."

"So, you'll go?" Blair managed to put every ounce of sincerity he owned into the question.

"If you're sure?"

"Like I said, Naomi will arrive and we'll have," he paused slightly, then rushed on, "some needed time, so yes, I'm sure."

"You didn't tell me Naomi was coming, Chief."

Blair glanced up innocently, "Didn't I? Must have slipped my mind. But you tend to have selective hearing when my mother's name comes up."

Ellison's eyebrow arched quizzically, but Blair just scooted past and held up the phone.

"Call him back, Jim."

Jim took the phone and with a "umph", dialed his father.

***

**5:15pm - Christmas Eve**

Water had started to seep in, under the mud, and blessing number one was now history.

Blair Sandburg was now officially cold and wet.

He'd managed to free one hand, and it was now absently digging into the squishy mud. Blair had begun to hear noises from above, like machinery, maybe? And hoped that meant imminent rescue.

As fingers pressed the mud, he thought back through the last four months and marveled at how difficult it had been for him to _not_ tell anyone about he and Jim. He'd wanted to so badly, and not telling anyone had become like a denial of _them_ , and he'd already dealt with one denial, at the press conference all those months ago. Now to deny their relationship, well, it had been a strain. Actions he'd want to take, he'd had to stifle. Words, touches; all stifled. Even at home, unless they were upstairs in bed, he'd had to curtail his natural touchy-feely self.

Blair sighed into the darkness, and thought about all the gentle touches he'd held back, so afraid that if he gave in at home, he'd crack at work and embarrass Jim.

But now, he'd come to realize it was for the best. Because in the last several weeks, he'd realized that Jim was not _in love_ with Blair. In four months, Jim had not said it. Because Jim had never lied to Blair.

Blair felt the mud sucking him down, getting squishier as the water from above soaked through. He idly contemplated how much time he had, and was again grateful that Jim was at his father's.

The noise was getting closer, but the mud was rising, and it would appear that there was a competition going....rescue or mud?

Blair decided to sing.

"i'll be home for christmas, you can plan on me...." and Blair wondered why he could feel moisture on his cheeks.

***

Jim waited for the connection and as it started to ring on the other end, he gave his partner one of his patented, "Why do I listen to you" looks. Blair ignored him and went about tidying up.

"Dad? Yeah, it's me. It looks like we're a go... what? On the twenty-third? At the country club?" Jim caught Blair's look, which clearly said, "yes, you big doofus", and answered his father with a, "Well, okay, yeah, that'll work. So I'll meet you and Steven at about five thirty tomorrow night. No, no problem getting off a bit early... provided the criminals play fair. Right, Dad," and Jim chuckled. Then at William Ellison's next words, Jim turned away a bit, so that he wasn't facing Blair and said, "No, Dad. Yes, I'm sure... Sandburg has plans... no, I understand... yes, see you then. Bye."

Blair continued to wipe down, his hand movement barely stalling at the words, at their obvious meaning. And he couldn't really blame William Ellison. Blair rather suspected that Jim hadn't entirely forgiven him either. It had been a close call, after all. He was so intent on his thoughts that he didn't realize Jim had come up behind him until the older man took the cloth from his hand.

"This one spot is clean, Chief. Trust me. And if your goal is China? There are much easier ways."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. So, want to get the tree tonight? And if you think about it, Jim, we now get two Christmases, which is really cool."

"Leave it to you to figure out that you get to celebrate twice. And can the tree wait? I've a killer headache, Sandburg."

"Shit, Jim, why didn't you say something earlier? Is it your senses? Too many lights on in the loft? The Chinese food?"

Jim's hand clamped over his mouth stopped the flow. "None of the above, Chief. Just a good, old fashioned headache. Okay?"

The hand dropped down and Blair nodded, "Right. Sorry. Why don't you go upstairs, lie down, I'll dim the lights, and maybe you can get a head start on sleep."

"Sounds good, Sandburg. Come up when you're ready."

Blair watched Jim climb the stairs, his steps heavy. He should have noticed the headache, that was his job. Damn. He quickly moved about, hitting lights, locking up, and when he was finished, he stood for a few moments, listening as Jim crawled into bed, and a moment later, as the light upstairs went out, Blair walked over to the balcony and stood, gazing out over their city.

What was that old lyric? Be careful what you wish for, because you might get it? Well, how long had he wanted Jim? And now that he had him....he didn't. And how can someone in love, feel so lonely? Love isn't supposed to feel this way, is it? Aren't you supposed to feel connected? Bonded? Two halves suddenly whole?

Blair had spent most of his life alone. But rarely lonely. New neighborhoods, new friends, new schools, new everything. He'd learned to make friends with himself, because sometimes, he was all that he'd had. But in the back of his mind was the thought that he'd someday find that other half of himself, and he'd no longer be alone. But love didn't promise anything. And it didn't solve anything either. Blair Sandburg was still alone. Even when he was sitting right next to the man he loved.

Christmas lights colored the city, and the bay, and while the sight usually lifted Blair's spirits, tonight they only served to remind. Remind him that he'd lied to Jim. Naomi wasn't coming, hadn't even called him. Blair had not heard from his mother since she'd left that Friday after the press conference. She hadn't returned a single call, letter or email.

Upstairs, Jim tossed and turned. His headache was tightening its hold, and the need for Blair's healing hands almost made him cry out. But he didn't. Something was wrong and Jim was too aware that the something might be him. Blair was holding back from Jim, holding back words, touches, gestures and truth. And the possible reason was more than Jim wanted to face right now.  He closed his eyes tightly, forcing those bright lights behind his lids, bit back a moan and then sighed as the bed dipped, and a cold cloth was draped over his eyes.

"It's okay, Jim, I'm here... sssh, don't say anything, just listen to my voice... " and fingers smoothed Jim's temples, lips kissed his brow lightly, and strong arms shifted his body until he was resting against Blair's chest. The beating of his lover's heart lulled him... and the words warmed him, "Love you, Jim, just relax, let me help... love you... "

Jim slept.

***

**5:30pm - Christmas Eve**

He could feel the mud creeping up.  Which was ridiculous, because of course, he couldn't feel anything; it was just his imagination.

He should sing some more.

"You're all I want for Christmas..." his voice went on, remembering all the lyrics, and visualizing his stocking full of Jim.  He smiled a bit, and wished he'd hugged Jim good-bye, before he'd ushered him off to his father's just so that he'd have the memory of those arms around him, of that solid strength, and warmth and the safety Blair had always craved.

***

**December 23, 1999**

The criminals of Cascade had indeed played fair. Major Crimes had busted a drug ring, convinced a wife to testify against her rapist husband, and closed two murder cases. At three on the dot, Blair pushed Jim out the double doors and into the elevator, promising that he would complete all the paperwork, like that was unusual, and that Jim needed to hurry or he'd be late. As the elevator doors closed, Jim gave a little wave, then disappeared.

Now Blair sat, typing up the promised paperwork and gnawing on his bottom lip. As he puzzled over some piece of useless information, Megan Connor walked in, gloom and doom written all over her expressive face.

"Connor?"

"Nothing, Sandy, nothing, just ignore my poor humor," and she plopped down in her chair, scowled at her computer and added, "I just drew Christmas Eve duty, that's all." And she huffed a piece of hair out of her eyes and glowered at the Christmas decorations on her desk.

Blair joined her, perching on the edge, and quipped, "And that shoots a hole in your plans to seduce Santa? Or did you have a really _hot_ date?"

"Date my granny's ass, my big brother comes in at noon tomorrow and flies out again at noon the day after. 24 hours, that's all we had."

Blair shrugged and announced, "I'll trade you shifts, no worries, mate," and he grinned at his near perfect imitation of their Aussie exchange officer. For Megan's part, she was thunderstruck and nearly fell over backward. As she righted herself, she asked, "Are you bluffing, Sandy?"

"No. I'll trade. Be happy to do it. I'm the rookie anyway, I should pull the duty. Kinda looking forward to it, truth be told."

"But surely, you have plans? Didn't I hear that your mother was coming in?"

"She isn't. Wasn't. Just me and a tree. So, what do you say?"

In answer, she jumped up and began to thump him on the back, laughing merrily. "Oh, mate, I will owe you big time, but I'll gladly pay off. My answer is YES!"

***

At five-thirty, Blair closed up shop, said good-night to everyone, got a hug and a kiss from Megan, to wolf whistles from the rest of the gang, and headed out.

As he drove home, he passed the Boy Scout Tree House and at the last minute, pulled in.

Twenty minutes and forty dollars later, he had a nice, green, snow dusted, seven foot Douglas Fir tied to the roof of his Volvo.

And fifteen minutes after that, he was cursing his stupidity. One five foot, seven inch man does not easily carry a seven foot tree up three flights of stairs. Because the elevator was of course, broken.

Sweating in 30 degree weather and cursing the holidays, he finally had the tree in its place, in the far corner, and as he stepped back to admire the view, he felt foolishly proud. He spent the next half hour rounding up the decorations, unraveling tree lights, which thanks to an anal sentinel, was an almost delightful task, and sipping his own version of a tree trimmer's hot toddy; Hot chocolate, Bailey's Irish Cream, and a shot of whiskey. Talk about warming the cockles of one's heart.

It took him over two hours to decorate, but when he was done, he had a masterpiece. He quickly gathered up all the presents he'd purchased for Jim and laid them under the tree, then shut off all the lights in the loft, and hit the tree lights.

Ah, yes. Nice. Real nice.

"Sandburg, you are good. For a nice jewish boy from everywhere in the world."

Before going to bed, he actually thought about calling Jim, but remembered he'd be at the Christmas Party at the Country Club. Oh, well.

He climbed the stairs, stood gazing at the large, empty bed, stripped down, and crawled in. He turned off the light, took Jim's pillow and hugged it to his chest, buried his face in the softness, inhaled the small bit of Jim's scent, and slept.

***

**5:45pm - Christmas Eve**

The noise had ended. So had the flow of mud. Blair's hand stopped playing with the mud pies, as he cocked his head and listened.

Nothing.

"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know... where the tree tops glisten and children listen, to hear sleigh bells in the snow....hohohoho... " His voice trailed off.

***

**December 24th - 2:00pm**

"Jeesh, Sandburg, did you see that guy run? I thought he was a goner."

"Nah, Joel, he was an easy mark."

Joel Taggert sat down at his desk and grinned up at his temporary partner, "Man, who knew you could throw a frisbee like that? You nailed the guy."

"I'm an old frisbee champion from way back... he never had a chance." Blair sat down and started the inevitable paperwork crusade, but the swinging of the double doors caught his attention and his face showed his surprise.

"Simon, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be picking up Daryl at the airport?"

The large man chomped down on his cigar as he stormed his way to his office. "Snowed in, no flights. Not coming until later in the week." His door slammed shut.

"Oooh, Santa is going to pay for that one methinks, eh, Hairboy?"

"Man, he was really counting on Daryl this Christmas."

Both men looked at the closed door, then grimaced and went back to their paperwork.

Inside his office, Simon stewed. Their first Christmas together since the divorce, and what happens? Snowed in. Damn.

He was just about to light up, rules or no rules, when the light bulb went on... Sandburg and Taggert. _Sandburg_ and Taggert. He got up, opened the door and bellowed, "Sandburg, my office - now!"

Blair shot a "What did I do now" look at Taggert, who just shrugged, as Blair got up and walked slowly into Simon's office.

"Sir?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Working?"

"Sandburg, cut the crap. Connor pulled the duty, not you. And why aren't you with Ellison?"

"I traded with Connor and Jim and I aren't glued at the hips, you know. He does have a life, as do I." Blair couldn't help the bit of defensiveness that crept into his voice.

"Don't shovel that shit on me. I know what happened at Lake Chelan. Now why aren't you with Ellison at his father's?"

The air whoosed out of Blair like a deflated balloon. He sat down, barely making the chair.

"Simon... I don't know... what do you... shit."

"I'm not blind, Sandburg. I saw you both, the way you were looking at each other, the way he looked when you were dancing. And I've worked with you two for almost four years; it was hardly a surprise. Now spill."

Just having the stuffing knocked out of him slowed his response down a bit, and he couldn't answer right away.

"Sandburg, why aren't you with Jim?"

"Hisfatherdoesn'tknowandhasn'tforgivenmeforthedissertation."

"I see." Simon templed his fingers and regarded the young man across from him. "Yes, I do see."

"Ah, sir, may I go now?" Blair stood, suddenly nervous at the way Simon was looking at him.

"Get out of here, Sandburg." And he waved a hand.

Simon watched Blair leave, his face flushed. Something was wrong in the Ellison-Sandburg home, and he was tempted to call Ellison at his father's, but good sense prevailed, or was that cowardice? Jim was his friend, but he had not confided the newest change in his life to his Captain, so maybe he'd better leave well enough alone.

***

**6:00pm - Christmas Eve**

Still no resumption of the noise that Blair had come to associate with his rescue. His hand continued to make small mud pies, and he continued to sing.

"Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock... "

***

**3:30pm - Chistmas Eve**

"One last interview and we call it a day, eh, Blair?"

"Sounds good to me, Joel." As Blair answered, he looked out the car window and gave a low whistle. "Man, this rain is something else. It hasn't stopped since noon."

Joel hitched himself a little closer to the wheel, peering out through the windshield wipers. "Yeah, I know. And that area near Stockton Avenue is already soaked through. I'm worried about slides."

"Don't we go near that area to interview Wilson?"

"Um, just a couple of blocks west."

Joel negotiated the rain slick streets and the heavy traffic like a pro, but it still took a good ten minutes longer than it should have, even in this bad weather.

As they crossed Stockton, a low rumbling sound seemed to roll over the two men and each glanced at the other... then back out the windows.

On Blair's side, he could see one of the old Victorian houses that were so popular in this area of Cascade, and as he watched, amazed, the house seemed to tilt and the ground to its right seemed to drop, to shift, and right in front of Blair's eyes, the ground disappeared, leaving a huge hole, with half the house seeming to melt in slow motion.

"JOEL! SINKHOLE! PULL IN!"

Taggert pulled the car over, and in seconds, he was on the phone, calling in the emergency as Blair jumped out of the car and began to run to the corner....

From that moment on, everything happened so fast, Joel could not later remember everything in any kind of sequential detail. People were running, toward the house and away from the house, and Blair was yelling and pointing, the wind whipping through his hair, rain splashing against him, and Joel ran up next to him, and still could not hear his words, but he followed his hand and saw the people on the second floor, and the house was sinking, and Blair was running, Joel right behind him....

Together, they aided six people from the sinking house, and just as the fire department arrived, they heard a scream. Blair whirled around, and again pointed, and the two men ran to the corner, where the second story was now almost immersed in mud, and they could see a woman, trapped, trying to climb up and out, but she was just too short....so Blair jumped in, and moments later, he was lifting and Joel was catching, and the woman was in his arms, but before he set her down, she began screaming, "LUKE, LUKE!" And Blair turned, saw the dog, shivering and shaking, just behind him, and the mud was coming in, so he reached back, grabbed the small pet, and held it up to Joel.

A huge, ripping sound surrounded them, and the housed seemed to upend, and just as the room Blair was in tilted away from Joel, he grabbed the dog from Blair's hands, turned and set it in the waiting arms of the woman, then turned back, just in time to see the floor below Sandburg's feet give way, and the young man disappear from view in a gust of wind, noise, mud and flying hair.

The house continued its sideways movement, and settled with a loud groan, over the very spot, where just moments ago, Blair had stood.

"Dear God, no," Joel whispered.

He stood there, wet, shivering, the woman behind him crying, the dog whimpering, and stared at the spot, now filled with _house_.

Firemen ran up, received the information of a trapped man, and rescue efforts began. Time was not on their side, everyone knew that, but they ploughed ahead, moving in carefully, shoring up the sinkhole, cordoning off the area and bringing in reinforcements.

***

**4:15pm - Christmas Eve**

Jim sat in front of the fireplace, half listening to the news, but mostly feeling like shit. No matter how convincing Blair's words had been, Jim was not happy. Blair should be here. Or Jim should be with Blair. This was not right.

William Ellison watched the news, his mind elsewhere. Something was wrong with Jim, and he desperately wanted to know what, and if he could do anything to help. But their relationship was too new and he was afraid to ask. So he kept silent.

Something on the screen caught his attention and he focused.

"... rescue efforts are ongoing, but it doesn't look good for the detective. We'll keep you posted, as this story unfolds."

At the word _detective_ , Jim turned and joined his father by the television set.

"Detective, dad? What's going on?"

"I don't know, just caught that reference myself." They both watched as the camera panned the scene and Jim recognized Taggert.

"Fuck, that's Joel." Jim was up and at the phone in a heartbeat. He caught Simon in his car, on his way to the scene.

_It's Blair, Jim. He's trapped, the house is sinking and I'm ten minutes from there now._

"I'll be there in twenty."

***

**6:30pm - Christmas Eve**

I'm a big boy. I can accept the facts. I'm not going to make it home for Christmas.

_"Sandburg, no obfuscations."_

Right.

"i'm not gonna make it," he said softly, to no one.

"and it's okay, too. now i'm glad you don't love me, jim. too hard on you if you did. things work out for the best after all, i guess." Blair tried to turn his head, but the mud really had his hair, so he just blinked hard, and felt the saltiness of his tears as they trickled down to his lips. "remember that guy, elliot warner? the one who killed his clerk because his clerk was better liked? weird guy, but i remember this conversation simon and i had, after you took good old elliot down to be booked." Blair took a deep breath, his breathing faltering, hitching, and the breath wasn't so deep at all, but he needed the sound of his own voice, so he continued whispering, "and simon and i were stunned by what the guy said; how no one loved him and that some people just weren't lovable. couldn't be loved. i asked simon if he believed that; if some people couldn't be loved, and you know, he said he did. i didn't agree at the time but now, i'm not so sure. i don't believe i've been loved. okay, i'm only thirty, but still..."

A low rumbling noise started up and it was different than before, and more guck came down and the mud around Blair seemed to move, to roll slightly and Blair held his breath, ready... but everything went still again.

"where was i? oh, yeah... only thirty. i'm not saying people don't like me, i'm sure they do, you know? in small doses. but i've never been in someone's arms and had a voice whisper, "i love you, blair", not even in the throes of sex. i don't think a person should die, without hearing those words, do you?"

"i love you, jim. i love you so much, these last four months, i wouldn't trade for anything, honest. i wouldn't even trade getting out of here, if it meant i'd have to give up the last four months. it's been hard, you know? not touching you the way i wanted to... hiding how i felt, but now it's definitely for the best. we've been such good friends... been through so much... i suppose i should make a confession now... remember that blue vest i was wearing when you came to my office the first time? no, of course you don't remember... well anyway, that morning, i was getting ready, and suddenly, what i wore was important. i wanted to impress you, and gail, another ta, said that vest brought out the blue in my eyes... and i wanted you to notice me... yep, i, blair sandburg, wanted a man to notice me... so i wore that vest. stupid, huh?"

***

"No, Blair, it wasn't stupid. And I did notice. I noticed your hair, your eyes, your mouth, that stupid little hand gesture, which I now realize was your way of bonding with the big, tough, cop, I noticed everything about you. But I especially noticed your touch. When you touched me, it was like electric shock therapy."

Jim Ellison was crawling through mud, muck and dirt, a lifeline tied around his waist, working his way toward the _voice_. He'd arrived on the scene just before four-forty, and like everyone else, had immediately begun to work. But he worked with a difference.

He could hear Blair.

Hear him sing. Or talk. So of course, Simon, Joel, Steven and Jim's dad worked with a difference. They all knew that as long as Jim worked feverishly, Blair was still alive. They'd see Jim pause every now and then, so they paused too... and watched as he wiped his face, or as his shoulders slumped forward, and they watched as he cried, or shook his head violently and said, "No, Chief, no... " and then he'd go back to work, harder than ever, and they would do the same, William Ellison standing shoulder to shoulder with his son, shoring up the side of the house, creating a work area, hammering wood around the hole, thanking God that it had stopped raining, and remembering his son's face as he'd turned from the phone and said Blair's name... and William Ellison had recognized love when he saw it....

Finally the opening they'd been working toward, was there and it seemed only natural that instead of one of the firemen, it would be Detective Jim Ellison who crawled down after the lost man. They'd tied a lifeline around him, and given him the vest he'd need when he reached Blair. It was called a "BuddyVest" and it would allow Jim to carry Blair on his back, tied securely, as Jim worked his way back to the people who would bring them out.

So, Jim had started his journey. And had listened, and talked, and above, everyone prayed that it would stay dry, that the rain wouldn't come again.

***

"so anyway, i wore that silly vest, and if you only knew how nervous i was... how you filled my office, and i'm not going to say that i fell in love with you right away, it took a while... i don't think i actually _loved_ you until you were facing veronica, in the bus... and i heard the pain in your voice when you tried to convince her that you'd tried to help her father... god, so much pain... and i wanted to take it all away... and i ended up bringing you more pain... always more pain. god, i'm sorry, jim. but what goes around, comes around, right? so major payback time."

Blair shifted slightly, not much, but a bit, and it seemed that the mud was less... he still couldn't move enough to free himself, but...

His free hand scraped at the mud, clawing, trying to reach something that was unreachable, and he closed his eyes again, and thought of all the cities he'd driven into and out of with his mother. They always seemed to be moving in or out at Christmas, and he could remember staring out car windows, gazing after the houses as they zipped by and peeking into the windows, seeing the decorations, the trees, the presents, and the families. Then the Christmases without Naomi, in some strange house, with friends he didn't know, or in some strange country, where Christmas didn't exist.

"i wish i could have talked with you, mom, before tonight. heard your voice. let you lecture me about my life... not that you ever lecture... would have loved hearing your voice one last time... told you i loved you. would have liked to hear you say... you loved me. just a little. don't need to know why you always left... i understand. and i hope you understand what i had here, in cascade, with jim. what i needed. what i've been reaching for, all my life. a home, someone, special, just that, nothing more. i know i can never make you understand what being a cop means to me... how much i love it, how making a difference is important to me, how being jim's partner is important. i was forced into the position of observer by the nature of how i was brought up, and that's good, it makes me a better cop, but you can't go through life just observing, mom, you gotta stay, you gotta **be** , or life passes you by... "

_"shut up, sandburg."_

Right.

Maybe another song....it was Christmas Eve, and while this song was not exactly typical Jewish music, it did seem appropriate for Blair Sandburg, in a mud hole and not likely to get out... and the mud was moving again....

"silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright... "

The mud was on the move again, making disgusting sucking noises, so Blair tried to sing louder...

"... holy infant, so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace...."

The mud seemed to flow over him, and there was a loud cracking noise, and he tried to raise his head, but he couldn't, and something had his legs, his ankles, gripping him hard, and the pressure on his chest gave way, and he slumped back down, the mud cradling him, and all movement stopped, and he waited, blinking, wanting to see Jim's face, one last time, and there it was, swimming above him, smiling, and he reached out with his free hand and touched the apparition, and smiled back...

"jim, hi."

"Hi, yourself, Chief."

"wow. you talk."

"Yes, I talk. Not as much as you, and I should talk a lot more, but I do talk. Can you feel my hand under your back?"

"nope. but then, you're a figment. people don't feel figments. silly."

"Ah, I'm a figment, am I?"

Jim slid the vest belt under Blair's body, brought it around and snapped it, then checked the large piece of wood that still held Blair down...

"a nice figment, i might add... i've always had a good imagination... "

"Yes, you do. I've got to move this one chunk of plaster and wood, then we can go home, okay?"

"sure. whatever. i love you."

"I love you too, Chief. And I intend on spending the rest of my life and yours telling you, showing you, but right now... " he grunted, as his shoulder pushed, and the chunk of wood moved slowly, painfully through the muck... "right now, I've got to get this off of you, see if you've any broken bones... tell me if anything hurts... "

"oh, man, you _are_ a good figment of my imagination... and i don't feel a thing so don't worry."

Jim kept pushing, pushing, and finally, he was able to topple the chunk over and Blair was free. He knelt back down, ran his fingers over the muddy body, and couldn't believe it... nothing broken. Absolutely nothing. Bruised, cut, but nothing broken. He sent a prayer up, then got back to the business of getting his shocky partner out.

"Okay, I've put a vest around you, Blair, and it's going to allow me to carry you out, but it won't be very comfortable, you ready?" He placed both his hands on either side of Blair's face, forcing the young man to look at him, "Look at me, Chief. Do you understand?"

"sure. we're going away. you and me. love you, man."

Jim shook his head helplessly, and decided this Blair might be easier to get out after all.

"Okay, buddy, here we go. I'm gonna lift you now, strap you to my back... that's it, just go limp, I've got you... rest your head on my shoulder, you ready?"

"yep. but i've got to talk to somebody about this... what happened to wings of a dove? carried up in the arms of an angel? i mean, a _buddyvest_? who thought that up? couldn't there at least be a golden elevator? and where's the bright light everyone always talks about?"

Jim grinned and shook his head again. "Hey, why don't you sing some more? I could use a good Christmas carol about now... what do you say?"

"that's not my job. you guys are supposed to serenade _me_ , i'm the one going up... this is ridiculous. is there a union? someone i can complain to? a head angel? or maybe... this isn't going to heaven? oh, sure, now you tell me... no wonder i get this stupid buddyvest. no christmas songs for you, no sir."

Then to Jim's surprise, Blair started to do a little hip dance within the confines of the vest, which definitely did not make Jim's task any easier...

"man, it's a hot one, like seven inches from the midday sun, i hear your whisper and the words melt everyone, but you stay so cool... "

Shit, he's singing, "Smooth".  Whatever happened to "Jingle Bells"?

Jim kept moving, struggling, pushing, shoving, lifting one leg out of the mud, then the other, and through it all, Blair sang.

"and if you said this life ain't good enough, I would give my world to lift you up, I could change my life to better suit your mood, cause you're so smooth... "

Up ahead, Jim saw the light, the ropes, and he was only yards away, but he could also see the rain... it had started to rain again. Fuck. But he was close, so close. He decided they needed to hear them, to know they were close, so he started singing with Blair.

"... and it's just like the ocean, under the moon, well, that's the same as the emotion I get from you, you got the kind of lovin' that could be so smooth, give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it... "

***

"Do you hear that?" Simon turned to William Ellison, his head tilted.

"Yes. Singing?"

The two men moved closer to the hole, and were immediately joined by several others. It had begun to rain again, and the panic among the rescuers was almost palpable.

"I hear singing.  We're not crazy, are we?"

"No, that's definitely singing. GET THOSE LIGHTS TRAINED OVER HERE!" Simon yelled.

Minutes later, to the lyrics of "Smooth", a very muddy Jim Ellison appeared, carrying an even muddier Blair Sandburg, who appeared to be dancing on Jim's back.

Eager hands grasped, ropes were pulled, paramedics were ready, and at seven pm, Christmas Eve, Blair Sandburg was lifted out of the mudhole. But he didn't know it. Halfway out, he'd finally blacked out.

***

Ah, there's the white light. Finally. Jeesh. Blair opened his eyes, and blinked as the white light burned down on him.

"Mr. Sandburg? Can you hear me?"

Now the white light was moving, back and forth, back and forth.

"yes. who are you?"

"Dr. Martin, Blair. Remember me? I took care of you a couple of months ago, when you and Detective Ellison decided to jump from the top of the Edwardian?"

"jumped hell, he pushed me." Blair cracked open one eye, and sure enough, no heaven, just another emergency room.  Well, actually, the _same_ emergency room.

"Don't listen to him, Doc. I did not push him. He jumped of his own free will."

"fuck you, ellison. you pushed me."

"Gentlemen, please? Blair, do you remember what happened to you?"

"well, these guys were chasing us, and they had this gun, and--"

"Not then, you doofus. Tonight. The doctor wants to know if you remember tonight."

"oh. well. a sinkhole. and a woman, and a dog, there's always a dog, or a cat, or a baby, and i think i fell in... is my back broken?"

"No, Blair, you're back is fine, in fact, you have no broken bones at all... just a few cuts and scratches, we've cleaned you up, you were shocky when they brought you in and, given your hatred of the cold, I suspect the worst you'll take home with you are the sniffles."

"can i go home now?"

"Shortly, Blair. Just rest, and I'll leave you in Detective Ellison's capable hands."

The doctor left, saying a few words to Jim, who then closed off the curtain.

"Look at me, Chief."

Blair opened his eyes, blinked in the glare, then focused on Jim.

"Now, I'm going to say this just once, well, actually, I plan on saying it a multitude of times in the coming years, but for the purposes of this discussion, I'm going to say it just once, and you're going to believe me. Do you understand?"

"you weren't a figment, were you?"

"No. That was me. I found you, crawled through the mud, risked my life, got real dirty, all to bring your sorry ass out of that damn hole. And I expect you to be _very_ appreciative when we get home. Now, listen, and listen good."

"okay."

"I love you, Blair Sandburg. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you inside, I love you outside, I love every quirk, every mood, I love your algae shakes, your tofu stew, that green fungus you call dessert, that green thing you call a car, I love your hips, I love your voice, your touch, your ass, your mouth, I _did_ notice you in that blue vest and it _does_ bring out your eyes, but _I_ fell in love right after you climbed down from that tree, and started putting together how the yarn matched the timing and then you looked up at me and said _What? What, part of your job is walking into a place and trying to figure out what happened there. Well, so is mine. It's just that my places are usually a few thousand years vacant..._ , yes, Sandburg, I remember every word. Because _I - love - you_. Now, repeat after me. _I, Blair Sandburg_... "

 Jim looked warningly at Blair, who gulped and said, "i, blair sandburg... "

"Do hereby believe and will always believe that James Joseph Ellison loves me... ".

"do hereby believe and will always believe that james joseph (the prick) ellison loves me... "

"The what?"

"the what?"

"You can stop repeating after me, and did you call me a prick?"

"you can stop repeating after me--mmmphnft." Jim clamped a hand over Blair's mouth and leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Blair, I love you, even when you call me a prick." He lifted his hand up the moment he felt Blair smile and as that mouth was free, he kissed it. When he finished, he lifted his head and looked into Blair's eyes, saw the mirth and chuckled as Blair said, "What? No tongue?"

"I'm reserving the tongue for later."

They were interrupted by the doctor, who stepped back in, smiling.

"Well, the last of the x-rays tell me no concussion, so you're free to go home and enjoy Christmas," he announced.

"Goody. Home for the holidays." Blair sat up, a bit shakily, then with a grand gesture, intoned, "Home, James."

***

**Epilogue**

**9:00pm - Christmas Eve**

Hot mulled cider steamed on the stove and pizza, thankfully provided by Simon, sat, crusts only, on the kitchen table. The Christmas lights were lit, the fire was crackling, corn was popping and Blair Sandburg was snoring, softly, in Jim Ellison's arms.

William Ellison sat, cup of cider in hand, legs stretched out in front of him, watching his son's lover sleep. And he marveled at the fact that he wasn't bothered one bit by the fact that his son's significant other was male. And he'd let go of the whole dissertation thing; he had to, for Jim's sake, for _their_ sake. If he was going to have a relationship with this strong, incredible man that was his son, he could do no less. Jim looked happier than he could remember ever seeing him and you don't scoff at that. You thank God for it. And if the source of that happiness was a short, handsome Jewish boy, so be it. Bill Ellison grinned into his cider at that, and caught his son's eyes. They smiled at each other and Bill lifted his cider in a mock salute, then turned his attention to Steven.

Steven Ellison was also watching his big brother, and the man sleeping in his arms. He couldn't stop the small shake of his head in surprise, because the idea of his big brother in a loving relationship with a man was astounding. Not that he minded, it was just so contrary. Or maybe not. His brother was nothing if not surprising. And contrary.

"So, you guys decided yet?"

Both Steven and Bill Ellison turned as one to regard Jim, both knowing to what he referred. They looked back at each other and smiled in agreement.

"Yeah, bro, we've decided. We stay and Christmas happens here. I'll drive back and get the gifts, and I'll take the couch, dad can have the bed."

"I should hope you'd give the bed to your old man," Bill Ellison huffed.

"Thank God. I'm gonna need you guys. There's no way I can put the runt's gift together by myself, and it's got to be up and running tomorrow morning."

"I'm not going to ask, surprise me. It's not," and Steven looked at Blair, grinned madly and said humorously, "a bicycle, is it? Or should I say, tricycle?" And he snorted in mirth.

"Are you making fun of my partner in crime, Bro?"

"Yes," and Steven snorted again.

"You'll pay. Big time. But later. Right now, you've got some gifts to get and I have this dead weight to get to bed." Jim stood, scooped the man into his arms, and as he happily thought about the embarrassment he could give his partner, when he told him how he'd carried him upstairs in front of his father and brother, he took him up, set him down gently, undressed him, pulled back the covers and tucked him in.

So much still to discuss, but they had the time. All the time in the world. Jim went back downstairs.

***

Jim moved through his home, locking up, doing his Sentinel duty. It was well after midnight, and on the kitchen table, a huge red ribbon around it, sat Blair's new Compaq. It was everything he would need to go back to school. Jim stood for a moment, staring down at it, smiling as he thought about Blair's expression tomorrow--oops, _today_. Steven shifted on the couch, reminding Jim that he wasn't alone. He moved upstairs, after a quick glance at first his brother, then his father.

He quickly and quietly undressed and slipped in beside his sleeping mate. He shifted and turned, getting comfortable, then he gently pulled Blair into his arms. The younger man stretched a bit, then snuggled down, one arm coming out from under the blanket to snake around Jim's waist.

"everyone asleep downstairs?" he mumbled softly.

"Shit, you're awake."

"mm."

"Yes, everyone is asleep. You figured they'd stay?"

"sure. i'm no dope. fourteen years in college had to be worth something."

Jim chuckled and nuzzled his face in Blairhair. "Yeah, I think you've been in school longer than Maynard G. Krebs."

"oh, at least. so, you macho guys put my christmas present together? or will I have to redo it tomorrow?"

"God damn it. You know. What, were you peeking over the rail? Spying on us? Laughing the whole time, I bet."

Blair laughed into Jim's chest, sending bits of delicious air cascading over his nipples and bringing forth a small moan of pleasure.

"nah, i don't need to spy. fourteen years in college, remember?"

"Will you? Go back now, I mean, like we talked about? Get your degree in psychology?"

"is that important to you? that i go back and get a doctor by my name?"

"Only if it's what you want. And that Forensic Psychology thing sounded good, and you seemed interested in it. Your eyes lit up when you were listening to Simon."

Blair rolled over, but stayed in Jim's arms, as he looked at his love. "It was. It did sound interesting, but I'm not sure if I want to re-enter academia, just yet. It was a lot of years of my life, and I have a new life now. One that I would like to enjoy," and his hand slipped down, under the elastic of Jim's shorts, "especially this new toy I've discovered. And the idea of night classes right now, when I could be home... playing... " and his hand began to stroke, playfully, as he dropped his head down and his mouth latched onto one Sentinel nipple... "Oh, yeah, I see... god, what you mean... shit, you're good, how did you get so good? A little faster, ummm, yes," and Blair lifted his head and scooted down, until his mouth was even with Jim's very lively cock... and he started to simply lick... a bit there, a bit here, teasing, flicking his tongue out, and back, until his body was perched over Jim, his hands gripping Jim's hips, and he spread Jim's thighs wider, and settled in, licking in earnest now, then taking in just the head, and Jim was moaning and thrusting, and Blair let the tip drop out, as he looked up and caught Jim's eyes and smiled wickedly...

"I've always wanted to make love to you with your father in the same house. This is even better... he's in _my_ old bed, right below us... " and Blair took Jim's cock in his mouth, and swallowed and swallowed, and Jim took the pillow and shoved it in his mouth, and bit down, hard, and damn, he could feel Blair smiling. The runt was god damned, fucking smiling! But a few seconds later, with his head exploding, Jim really didn't give a flying hoot.

***

"Merry Christmas, Jim."

"mmm. you rat."

***

**12:00pm - Christmas Day**

The loft was just now starting to look normal again. Most of the wrappings and ribbons had been cleaned up, the breakfast dishes and mugs were in the dishwasher, and the Christmas music had finally been turned off in favor of sports on the television.

Blair sat at the kitchen table, _playing_ with his Compaq, Jim and Steven were slouched down on the couch, watching the game, and the very astute and successful businessman, William J. Ellison, was playing with one of Jim's handheld games, Checkers, to be exact.

"King me, you bastard!"

Three men, ages 40, 36 and 30 respectively, turned to look at the man, aged 63, as he held the game aloft and crowed.

"Gee, dad, did you win?" Steven asked, innocently.

"Damn straight, I did. There isn't a machine built that I can't beat."

Three heads shook in wonder. Three men smiled contentedly.

***

**9:00am - December 31st**

"How did you wangle this day off, anyway?"

"Simple. I put in for it." A pillow slammed into Jim Ellison's head.

"Hey, watch it, runt. This is valuable merchandise. Besides, with the party and all, well, it was easy getting the time."

"Valuable? Merchandise? I'll show you valuable," and Blair jumped his bedmate. They wrestled a bit, rolling over, getting tangled in the blankets, laughing hard. Then Jim got that gleam in his eye, and Blair went, "Oh, no you don't, don't you even," but it was too late; Jim had Blair's wrists, and with his other hand, he began to ruthlessly tickle.

"ah, come... don't do this... " but he couldn't talk, couldn't catch his breath, he was laughing so hard and tears were streaming down his face as he tried to mumble, "unfair... "

Suddenly, Jim stopped. And he just stared. The laughter died away as Blair blinked the tears from bleary eyes.

"What?"

"Be my date tonight?"

Blair went very still. Blinked again. Looked away. Jim let his wrists go, and sat up. Blair rolled out of bed and stood, looked about him, looking all the world like a lost puppy.

"Blair, be my date."

"No. You don't need to do that, Jim. Your father and brother know. Simon knows. Stuart and Ben, they'll be there tonight, they know. It's enough."

"It's not enough, Chief. It's not enough. These are our friends, tonight is perfect."

"What about all those sane reasons? What about the partnership breaking up? Nothing has changed."

"Wrong, Blair, everything has changed. I understand now, I heard you, last Friday, I listened to you, under that house, I know what being a cop means to you."

Blair walked back to the bed and frowned down on Jim as he asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"That was the real reason. And the reason, I held back telling you that I loved you. Because I felt that someday, and someday soon, you'd resent what you'd done for me, you'd come to hate this, all of this, and me. So, I took the easy way out... " his voice trailed off in the face of the incredulous expression gracing Blair's beautiful features.

"You're kidding? Right?", and when Jim just quietly shook his head, Blair expelled all the air in his lungs and said, "Whew."

"Man, Jim, you are one messed up jerk. Do you ever figure anything out right about me? Ever? Do you fucking know me at all?"

"It's not about you. And this from the man who couldn't figure out I loved him anyway?"

"Oh, right, pardon me all to hell. Mr. Blair Sandburg, all Sentinel knowing, reads between the lines, knows just from a look how his fucking stupid Sentinel feels.  Yep, that's me, all right. You asshole."

"Dickhead."

"Prick."

"Bastard."

"Oh, that's a good one... I am a bastard. You can do better than that... "

"No, actually, that was my best shot."

"Wuss."

"Always have to get in the last word, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Motherfucker."

"ooh, one more. Sonofabitch."

"Will you be my date, you little chickenshit?"

"Yes, you big ape."

"Good."

"Perfect."

"Who loves ya, baby?"

"Oh, god. Now he thinks he's Telly Savalas. Hey, wait, in a few years, you will be... ".

"Shorty."

Blair sat on the edge of the bed, and ruminated, "You know, no matter how old you get, Jim? I'll always be younger. And cuter. And have more hair."

"Everywhere. You hairy beast."

The pillow slammed into Jim's face again. Direct hit.

***

**8:00pm - New Year's Eve The Ballroom at the Riverton Inn**

"You're tie is fine. Stop fussing."

"Hey, I don't want to embarrass my date."

Jim turned Blair around and gazed down lovingly, "You could never do that, runt."

"May I ask where this 'runt' shit came from?"

"If the name fits, wear it."

"So, if I start calling you cocksucker? My sweet little cocksucker... "

"Blair... " Jim said warningly.

Blair just smiled sweetly and held the door open for his _date_.

***

Jim stood by the buffet table, a glass of champagne in his hand. It was only a little after 10, and the party was a huge success. But Jim was starting to get that _feeling_ , and he needed Blair. The music, the noise, the scents, were all adding up to one hellacious headache.

Ben Webber and Stuart Styles were on the dance floor, and joking around with Karen Phillips and Joel Taggert, who'd just impressed the hell out of everyone with his snazzy dance steps. And Jim managed a small smile as he watched the foursome.

Simon ambled over and patted Jim on the back. "Man, your father really knows how to throw a party. Daryl is having a blast."

Jim smiled at his boss, who was beaming at the sight of Daryl and Kisha, both currently doing a mean tango. "He likes her, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, Jim, he does. Which is very good, because tonight, I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

"You're kidding! Simon, that's great. Congratulations!" The two men shook happily, Simon barely containing his huge grin.

"Congratulations on what?" Blair had come up and Jim pulled him into his side and smiled down at him, "Simon is going to ask Kisha to marry him tonight."

"Hey, that's great news, Simon. Congratulations are definitely in order. Kisha could do worse, " he added with a smirk.

"I'll let that remark pass... until next week, when I find a way to pay you back."

The music ended and a slow dance started up, so Simon excused himself, to dance with Kisha.

"Jim, you okay? You look a little green around the gills."

"Headache. But I can make it a couple more hours."

"Take him home, Blair. I can see he's miserable."

Jim whirled to face his father, who was looking at him with concern.

"It's the noise, isn't it?" The senior Ellison was looking at his son, but he addressed the question to Blair.

"That and the scents, the lights, all of it. He can only turn it down so far."

"Go home, Jim. Please? See the year 2000 come in from the comfort of your home, with the man you love. Go on. For me."

"Dad... "

"Blair, take him home. I somehow think he will do what you say."

"Always, Bill, always. Come along little Jimmy, let's go home."

Jim gave his dad an unaccostumed hug, they exchanged "Happy New Year"s, with Bill promising to explain to everyone, per Blair, that Jim was too horny to stay. Blair highfived Bill, and to Jim's surprise, they shared a private laugh.

Blair got Jim into the truck and drove them home.

***

**1130pm - New Year's Eve The loft**

The headache was gone, the lights were out, the fire was lit, and the two men sat on the couch, watching the activity in Times Square.

"Someday, I think I'd like to spend New Year's in Times Square."

"That would be without me, runt."

"Oh, that's okay, I figure by the time you kick the bucket, I'll still be young enough to enjoy life... I'll grab me a couple of young things and jet off to New York."

Jim's sparkling retort was cut off by the ringing of the phone. Neither man moved.

_Honey? You there?_

Blair jumped up, vaulted over the back of the couch and grabbed the phone before Naomi could hangup.

"Mom?"

_Sweetie! You're home. I was afraid I'd miss you. I just needed to hear your voice. Everything okay?_

"Everything's fine, mom. Where are you?"

_Katmandu, honey. I'm using Charles' connections to make this phone call. I know I should have called sooner, but..._

"But you had a lot of processing to do?"

_And detaching. Lots of detaching, but I just felt the need to hear you. To tell you that I love you._

"Love you too, mom."

_Is Jim with you?_

"Yes."

**Did you two finally wise up? Take the leap?**

"Jesus, mom... how did you know... "

_Get real, I'm your mother. So you two are finally **together**?_

"Yes, we're finally together. Happy at last," he added with a chuckle.

_Blair, honey, I do believe you are, at last._

"Yes," he breathed out.

_Tell Jim I love him, and I hope he's forgiven me, and tell him that I really do love my son, and now I have two._

"I think he heard you, mom. Happy New Year and I love you."

_Love you... love you so much, Blair._ And the connection was broken.

Slowly, he put down the phone. And wiped his cheeks with the palm of his hand. And strong arms came around him, and a head nuzzled his ear, and Jim whispered, "I do forgive her, you know. And I love you too."

He turned in Jim's arms and grinned up impishly, "So, you claim to love me, huh? So it's about time you danced with me."

"Dance?" Jim croaked out.

"Dance. Now. You. Me."

There was no music, but that didn't stop Blair Sandburg, who began to move slowly against Jim Ellison. He took one hand, and put it on the small of Jim's back, and guided him, barely moving, but allowing his hips to sway lightly, and Jim smiled, because at that moment, on the television, they started playing "Smooth" and it was obviously now their song, so he let Blair move him, but they really stayed in place, just letting their bodies move from side to side, their thighs rubbing, and Blair slipped his leg between Jim's and let his thigh rub Jim...

"so, this is dancing?"

"um... like it?"

"oh, yeah. just call me twinkle toes ellison."

"i prefer cocksucker."

"um, me too... as in _verb_... " and Jim slowly moved down Blair's body, hands easily pulling Bair's sweats down, and he backed him up, against the post, and took him into his mouth, while his fingers teased Blair's ass... darting around his opening, and Blair gasped, and his head dropped back, as fingers clenched tightly on Jim's shoulders....and Dick Clark was counting down, and the camera panned back to Times Square, and the crowds, and the flickering screen cast an eerie glow on Blair's face, as he came, yelling Jim's name.

Jim let Blair slide happily down, but grinned as the younger man whispered, "I hope you don't think you're done?"

And as the big, silver ball began its descent, Jim entered his love, in one, fluid motion, then pulled him back, and together, in their own special rythm, they welcomed in the year 2000.

And to prove what excellent timing they both had, as the counter on the television screen reached **0** , and the ball reached the bottom, and pandemonium hit Times Square, and as fireworks lit up the night sky in Cascade, and horns blared, and people screamed Happy New Year, and as Steven Ellison hugged his father, and Simon kissed Kisha and then hugged his son, and as Joel Taggert kissed Karen Phillips, and Ben Webber dipped Stuart Styles and kissed him, and as Megan Connor ignored her weird boyfriend to kiss first Rafe, then Henri Brown, Jim and Blair yelled each other's names, and collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs.

And at 12:15 on January 1st, 2000, Blair Sandburg lay in Jim Ellison's arms, and heard, "I love you."

 

finis

   
 **Disclaimer:** All characters from **The Sentinel** are the property of Pet Fly Productions, Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo. Characters from any other television show, movie or book are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. We believe the works contained in this archive to be transformative in nature and therefore protected under the 'fair use' provisions of copyright law.

This story archived at <http://asr3.slashzone.org/archive/viewstory.php?sid=1234>


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